November Harlequin Presents 2(257)

‘Of course—we both do,’ he replied. ‘As for tomorrow I’ll be interviewing all the staff individually, so perhaps you’d see that all the personal files are available?’

‘That’s the secretary’s responsibility,’ Cryssie said. ‘Rose Jacobs. She’s perfectly capable of carrying out your every wish.’ She walked across to the bathroom and glanced back at him over her shoulder. ‘Thank you for dinner last night,’ she said. ‘I had never tasted anything like that before, and it was…special.’

He stared across at her, his black eyes boring into her gentle green ones. She needn’t have confessed to her ignorance of the finer things in life, he thought. Could have pretended that dining in a place like the Laurels was not a new experience. Her simplicity of nature touched him again. No other woman he’d ever been with had had this effect on him. She was undemanding and unpretentious, yet no shrinking violet either, and some of her comments last night had made him laugh out loud. His usual women-friends weren’t generally known for their sense of humour…



By mid afternoon they were on their way back to town, and when he drew up outside her front gate he turned briefly to look at her, wondering what was going through her head. She had been very quiet today, he thought, all the easy familiarity of last night completely gone, her quick-witted remarks non-existent.

‘Are you okay, Cryssie?’ he asked casually.

‘I’m perfectly okay, thank you—Jeremy,’ she replied. ‘And don’t worry—I’ll remember to call you Mr. Hunter from now on.’

A sudden look of realisation crossed his features for a second, and he gripped her wrist roughly. ‘If you’re referring to my suggestion that we should be discreet about last night,’ he said curtly, ‘I can assure you that it was for your sake, not mine!’

‘Of course it was, Jeremy,’ she said sweetly.

And with that she opened her door and got out before he could help her, or say another word.



The following day it was business as usual, and as soon as Cryssie got to work she saw that Jed had already arrived. Parking her car a long way away from the silver Porsche, she ran up the stairs to the office, where Rose was booting up the computers.

‘Hi, Rose,’ she said breathlessly, taking off her coat. ‘Did you have a good New Year’s Eve?’

‘Oh—so-so,’ the woman replied. ‘You?’

‘Oh…yes, as usual,’ Cryssie replied vaguely, crossing her fingers as she did so. She couldn’t describe her New Year’s Eve as so-so! ‘Have you seen Mr Hunter yet? His car’s here.’

‘Yes,’ Rose replied. ‘He put his head around the door a few minutes ago. Wants to see us all one by one. He’s instructed me to bring him the relevant files,’ she added importantly.

As they got on with their work, Rose said, ‘What do you think of our new boss, then, Cryssie? Do you think our jobs really are safe—for the time being at least? Or will he start making changes that’ll force us to resign? Or maybe we’ll be chucked out!’

Cryssie kept her eyes on her computer. ‘Why ask me, Rose?’

‘Oh…only that you have met him before, haven’t you? I just thought you might have some inside knowledge, that’s all.’

‘Our acquaintance was just a passing encounter in Latimer’s,’ Cryssie said. ‘I was a customer—and I sort of complained about something—and he just happened to be around at the time.’

‘Well, you have to agree that he’s a looker,’ Rose said, sighing briefly. ‘I don’t think any of us would throw him out of bed, do you?’

‘Probably not,’ Cryssie replied, turning her face away, aware that it was burning.

‘I wonder whether sir likes coffee at eleven o’clock,’ Rose said as she took another batch of files from the cabinet. ‘And whether he likes milk, and one lump or two?’

‘Oh, he—’ Cryssie almost said that he liked it black with no sugar, but stopped herself just in time! ‘Just put everything on the tray and let him help himself,’ she said quickly.

Presently Rose left the room with the things that Jed wanted, and Cryssie sat back for a moment. She hadn’t dropped any bricks so far, she thought, but it was hard to try and eradicate her recent experiences from her mind. To say the whole business was unreal, not to say surreal, was an understatement! And the mental picture of her employer lying on the bed, naked apart from his boxers, still made her senses rush. She admitted to herself for the first time, and reluctantly, how close she might have come to lying beside him, to allowing those long, sensitive fingers to caress her body. And now she was expected to forget everything and pretend it had never happened. It was simply an impossibility. Nothing about Jeremy Hunter was unforgettable!